


In the Backroom

by totallyinnocent



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Actors, Adults, Crush, Fluff, Halloween, Haunted House, M/M, Pining, comic book author, idk man its not really a slow burn bc it all is over the span of a month, makeup artist, obvilous
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:07:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25445860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/totallyinnocent/pseuds/totallyinnocent
Summary: Gerard Way lives with his brother in his twenties, which is a pretty sad life to have. All he needs is to finish up the storyboard for his comic and pitch it. Then he can finally live easy. Only, he has been living pretty easily. Mikey is the real backbone of their life, he's the one who actually pays the bills and buys the food. So, he presses for Gerard to take the part-time job as a makeup artist for the pop-up haunted houses all of October.They both navigate through crushes and relationships for the whole spooky season.
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way, Mikey Way/Pete Wentz, Ray Toro/Mikey Way
Comments: 14
Kudos: 32





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i promise my writing is better i wrote this very late last night

“A makeup artist? Really, Mikes?”

Mikey throws his hands up in the air, exasperated. “I’m the  _ only _ one bringing in income right now, so forgive me for asking for a  _ little _ help. I’m tired of buying bulk packets of ramen and living without constant heating.”

There’s a loud flutter as Gerard pulls a few parts of an unfinished storyboard out of the clutter of papers on his work desk. “It  _ will _ take off, Mikes! It’s going to be amazing! The company told me it has huge potential when I told them!”

He pretends to consider it for a moment, putting his finger onto his chin delicately. “Oh, gosh, my bad. Didn’t realize  _ unfinished comics _ were what’s bringing home cash nowadays!”

“You know I just need time,” Gerard mumbles.

There’s a long agonizing pause before Mikey lets out an aching sigh. “Yeah, I know…” he says softly.

“Yeah, you know… So what makes you think I have time for a  _ fucking makeup job _ ?!”

“Oh, for fuck’s  _ sake _ , Gerard!”

Living under the same roof for all their lives took a toll on the Way brothers. Scratch that.  _ Almost _ all their lives. There was, of course, the couple month period where they blasted through their savings by living in expensive apartments, thinking they’ll find a job to cover it by the time cash began to run dry. They both met the same doom.

Instead of admitting defeat and moving back home to a mother with a heavy coat of, “I told you so,” on her lips, they decided to move in together in a half-decent apartment in the shadier part of town.

It went great until Gerard quit his office job to pursue comic book writing full-time. That was when their semi-stable income snapped in half.

Mikey picked up more work to pick up for his brother’s slack. He worked himself to the bone trying to make sure he had the supplies he needed. Whatever social life he had slowly watered down until it became a close circle of two friends who he had the time to talk to. His coworkers. It was at this realization that he decided it was time for Gerard to pitch in.

The realization was brought on by a little flyer hung up on a pole outside of his work. It’s fluorescent orange caught Mikey’s eye. The giant bold “ARTIST HELP WANTED” lettering certainly helped.

“I don’t understand the issue! It’s not permanent or anything. It’s only a month and it’s also  _ part-time _ ! It’s not going to interfere with your comic at all!”

“It’s almost done! I would only need another week or so, then I could submit-”

Mikey stomps his foot in frustration, causing yelling from the downstairs occupants, which nearly sends him into tears. “You said that two months ago!” He takes off his glasses held together by black tape to match the black rims and quickly swipes at his eyes. “I’ve been bending over backward for you for two fucking years. We’ve lived off ramen and shitty food that made us sick. I just want a bit of extra cash to help us out.”

Then he was crying. Only, Mikey’s crying isn’t really “crying” per se, it’s more him looking angry while tears pour out of his eyes like there’s no tomorrow.

Now Gerard realizes how badly he fucked up. There was nothing else occupying his mind except the lives of his characters and where the story will go. Not even his own brother could infiltrate that, and Gerard doesn’t think he even tried.

“I’m sorry, Mikey. I’m sorry. I’ll do it. I’ll apply for the job,” he assures, rubbing his brother’s shoulder gently. His tone didn’t match his internal feelings one bit. A whole environment filled with new people he would have to converse with wasn’t his cup of tea. The only people he ever talked to, excluding phonecalls with his pushy mother and eager father, were Mikey and the one guy at the nearby coffee shop who knew his order by heart.

The hand rubbing Mikey’s shoulder was shrugged off as he turned to face him. “Gerard, I can tell you’re scared…”

“No, I’m-” Mikey shakes his head like he doesn’t have the patience for his. “Fine. Yeah, I’m a little worried. I don’t exactly talk to people much.”

“I’ll be there with you. They were looking for more help and I’ve got time off because of Halloween,” he explains.

Gerard just gives him a hum of recognition and he examins the flyer more carefully, learning exactly nothing about this job. “What do I even do?”

“Oh, they need makeup artists for all the pop-up haunted houses this month. This place organizes them. I heard they’re terrifying,” he adds with a grin, feeling his frustration wash away.

Like a confused puppy, Gerard cocks his head to one side. “How do they hire?”

“The girl told me to just go to the community center on Parade Avenue on the 6th, so… I guess we have two days.”

Those two days went by relatively fast. It was mainly Gerard cooped up in a bundle of blankets staring at the tv screen playing horror films non-stop for the first half, then actually practicing on the second day, which Mikey had off work. Because of this scheduling, Mikey became Gerard’s mannequin. He turned into a werewolf, a zombie, a blood-drinking nun, basically whatever had been burned into his brain. It was after Gerard convincingly made Mikey appear to have eyeballs bubbling up out of his skin that the two decided he was ready.

“I didn’t think the day would come where I had more than four eyes,” Mikey cracks, wiping off the makeup on a towel practically covered in makeup, just like the rest of the bathroom.

Everything was coated in think smudges and layers of makeup, so Gerard had to clean each of them before he could put them in his supply bag. “I just hope we earn enough to pay back for all this makeup. Sorry, you have to always run to the store for me.”

It’s hard to notice, but the tips of Mikey’s ears go pink. “It’s fine, I like taking runs down there, so I just pick up what we need.”

“No, but you go down to the store a  _ lot _ , like, sometimes I don’t even ask you to. Even when we’re stocked up on ramen you’re just  _ always _ there,” Gerard presses, seeing the tips of Mikey’s ears flush brighter, as well as his neck.

Mikey pushes his face into the towel, wishing to be talking about anything else. “I don’t know, I just always end up down there.” That was one of the most terrible lies Gerard had ever come out of his brother’s mouth, which wasn’t difficult considering his excellent knack at lying, but the idea was there. He raises his brows at his brother, waiting for the truth to come out. “Okay, fine. The cashier is kind of cute. That’s it.”

“Oh, Mikey, you poor thing. How can you not see he’s only after you for your money?” Gerard asks dramatically. Mikey laughs but doesn’t look up. “What’re they like?”

Now Mikey perks up. “He’s actually really nice and funny. Like, he could be in the middle of a super busy day and still manage to make me laugh while he’s racing through scanning my stuff. On the days when no one is there, we just talk forever, and we just get along so well,” he sighs with a smile.

The gushing catches Gerard off guard from how Mikey usually talks about people he found interest in. “Wow, I just expected you to say he had a nice ass. You really like this guy, huh?”

“Oh, he has a great ass. When he bent down to grab some cigarettes for this girl, I swear I almost died.” He locks eyes with Gerard. “But, yeah, I like him.”

“So, when’s the date,” Gerard asks suggestively.

“I, uh, don’t have his number. And I also don’t even think he thinks of me like that,” he mumbles. Gerard has about no dating life whatsoever, but Mikey still felt embarrassed talking about it.

“What time is it?” Gerard abruptly asks.

Mikey blinks and feels incredibly stupid, why on earth would Gerard care about his dumb crush? “Almost 9 pm, why?” he answers after pulling out his phone.

Gerard looks at the blush palette in his hand carefully, then throws it to the floor like it tried to bite him. “Oh man, I need a new blush palette. Mikey, be a dear and go buy one?”

It takes Mikey a moment to realize what Gerard just did, but when he does, he’s not sure whether to be happy or angry about it. “Fine,” he states and with a snatch of his keys, he’s off to the store.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikey and the mystery cashier.

Mikey shoots Gerard a quick text telling him to go to sleep once he’s walked a block, finding it to be too much effort to tell him in person.

The streets are quiet, the only sounds being the occasional car or raccoon going about its business. Everything seems magnified in the quiet, causing Mikey to jump with every twig snap. It isn’t the best neighborhood, so he has a right to be at least a little worried. On their shitty T.V., he had caught a brief summary of a murder in their local park, which was really a haven for drug addicts who needed a place to wait out their crash or purchase more to keep their high going.

When the neon sign from around the corner is close enough to burn Mikey’s retinas, he stops walking. He now has a purpose other than pining after the cashier or buying groceries, mostly both. He’s going to get his number. If he has time, maybe get a small flirt or at least a hint in there as well.

Summoning up the courage that’s draining out of him like a bucket with a hole at the bottom, he marches on in there… after waiting for the automatic doors to slide open. With only a subtle glance, he can see the cashier at the checkout, listening to music with his headphones popped in.

Whatever was playing must not have been loud, since he looks up as soon and the monotone bell signaled the doors opening. “Mikey!” he calls a little too loudly. Mikey finds it adorable.

“Hey, Ray,” he laughs.

With a quick flick of his wrist, Ray pulls out his headphones. “What are you doing here so late?”

“I- I, uh… My brother needs a blush palette. He broke his.” Why was he so awkward? Ray probably thought his brother was some weirdo with a grudge against blush. Why did he even mention it was his brother?

Ray just smiles. Of course, he does.

“Can’t say I’ve heard that one-” he cuts himself off, leaning over the counter towards Mikey extremely fast. In that split moment, Mikey’s heart rate skyrockets and he feels like the blood rushed to his cheeks so fast he might pass out. “What’s on your face?”

“My- my-?” Mikey’s hands rub wildly all over his cheeks, trying to get whatever was there and making him look like a fool.

However, his frantic movements were stopped by a strong grip from Ray, to peer at whatever caught his attention intensely. “Dude, that’s awesome. Did you do that?”

Before Mikey can ask what exactly he was accused of doing, Ray snaps a quick picture with his phone. He then immediately hands it to Mikey. Mikey is greeted with one prominent eyeball he didn’t manage to wipe off in Gerard’s makeup frenzy. “Oh, no, that was my brother.”

“Your brother is wicked talented,” Ray beams.

If he had been anyone else, Mikey would’ve punched them in the face for saying, “wicked,” but it was Ray. Ray makes it cute.

“Yeah, he’s practicing for the haunted houses. We need the extra cash.” It takes Mikey a moment to realize that Ray probably thought he was asking for money, which was most definitely not the case.

Ray didn’t. “Nice! I’m gonna be working there for the month too. I am  _ also _ kinda low on cash,” he adds with a chuckle, looking into Mikey’s eyes.

“Yeah…” Mikey breathes, staring back at him.

Then it’s quiet for a long moment. No one comes into the store. No one leaves the store. It’s just Mikey and Ray. The world is there’s.

Then its been quiet for too long and Mikey realizes he should’ve said something better. “Uh, I’m going to be working there too.”

This catches Ray’s attention and he straightens up with a charming grin. “That’s awesome. We’ll totally see each other all month then.”

The sheer positivity as he says that makes Mikey’s awkward smile grows into a bright beam, teeth poking out of one half of his mouth from a terrible smoking habit. “You can meet my brother!”

“You can meet Christa!”

Christa! Christa. “Christa?”

Ray eagerly swipes through his phone, which still has the photos app open, to show a beautiful woman making a goofy face next to Ray, making an equally goofy face. Their cheeks are practically glued together. He hands Mikey the phone, who stares down at it dumbstruck. How could he have been so stupid? Of course, he was straight. He had a girlfriend for fuck’s sake. Even if he did swing the other way sometimes, why would he choose Mikey when he had her?

“Oh, she’s lovely.”

Ray walks out from behind the counter and pulls Mikey down the makeup aisle. “Yeah,” he says nonchalantly. “She’s helping out too! For the same reason as us,” he finishes with a knowing smile.

“Do you guys live together or something?” Oh, god, that practically reeks of desperation and jealously.

“Nah, she’s just around at my place a lot.”

Probably to makeout and whatnot. “She cool?”

“Well, yeah. I wouldn’t introduce anyone uncool to you, Mikey. I mean, you already have me, why would you need any more?”

Mikey knows that Ray meant it in a self-deprecating humor kind of way, but he couldn’t help but think of it as romantic. He’s snapped out of his daydream when Ray pulls them to a halt.

“Blush!”

“What?!” he yells.

Ray looks over at him through the wavey locks pouring over his face. “ _ For your brother? _ ”

At a striking speed, Mikey looks over at the products, sure enough, he spots the palette Gerard had right away. “Oh, yeah. Thanks.”

“I literally work here,” he snorts. Be still, Mikey’s heart. Ray suddenly drops to a crouch and eyes the palettes of all shapes, sizes, and colors. “What did he use?”

“Don’t remember,” slips out of Mikey’s mouth before he can grab what he needs and leave to mourn over the discovery of Christa, who is probably just as nice as Ray.

“Um, I guess we could find some samples,” Ray mumbles to himself, pulling out a few of the palettes. “We should see which is best, right?”

Mikey sits down next to him with a subtle grin. “Yeah, we should.”

It’s silent, only the occasional pop of a clasp or gasp at the pigmentation. Both their arms were covered in pinkish streaks and shiny silvers. At some point, Ray decided to turn a fraction of an inch towards Mikey, which lead to their knees being precious flush against one another. It drove Mikey up the wall.

“I think this one is good!” Ray beams, extending his arm out in front of Mikey like he should know which streaks he’s referring too.

In a fidgety manner, Mikey pushes his glasses up his nose. “Um,  _ which _ ?”

His arm retracts and he stares at it in thought for a moment. “I guess I’ll show you.” he finally says. With that, he swipes his thumb down the bridge of Mikey’s nose. “There, adorable.”

At that moment Mikey didn’t even need the blush. He just laughs harshly and stands up, already racing over to the register, trying to not turn and watch Ray walk over. It only makes everything unbearably awkward. Ray scanned the palette in silence and Mikey paid for it without a word.

Then he’s right at the door. He’s about to leave. Just a couple more steps and he would have to bolt it home to avoid muggers. Yet, he can’t move. All he needs is for Ray to say something, anything. The conversation has to be initiated by him or else he won’t be able to muster up the courage to ask for his number.

Then, like whatever god up there listening, Ray coughs. “Um, stay safe. I- I wouldn’t want to lose my favorite customer.”

There. That’s the trigger. “Could I get your number?” Christ, he actually said it.

Apparently, Ray is just as surprised as Mikey since he gapes at him momentarily before holding his phone out in his direction. “Yeah.”

“Wanna talk if we’re going to be working together all month,” he chuckles awkwardly, typing his number into Ray’s phone. It takes him a minute to think of what to label his contact information as. Plain, ‘Mikey,” seems reasonable, but what if Ray knew another Mikey? In the end, he types out ‘Favorite Customer,” and hands it back to him, flushing all kinds of red.

After glancing over the contact, Ray gives him his signature all-teeth smile. “It’ll be fun.”

“Yeah, it will be.”

Then he’s out the door. Even the creep lingering at the corner with his hand in his ratty sweats can’t damper Mikey’s spirits. All the way home, he practically skips. The moon shines brighter than he ever remembers. Every puddle filled with grease and motor oil somehow looks like a beautiful rainbow. All the broken glass bottles only reflect the moonlight to make the street as beautiful as the starry night sky. The howls and growls of strays are music to his ears.

He walks up the stairs of his apartment building, not bothered by the drunken yells, the sultry moans, and the sorrowful crying of the other inhabitants of the building. Once he’s at his door, he unlocks it with ease and slips inside.

On the couch is one greasy guy with a mop of hair covering his face, oddly reminding Mikey of one of those dogs with long hair that covers their eyes. It’s sweet. Clearly, Gerard had stayed on the couch in hopes to pry into Mikey’s love life that used to be just as sad as his, but he fell asleep before he could tell him that.

Mikey doesn’t bother waking him. He just pulls a random blanket off of his brother’s bed and drapes it over him for some form of warmth. He needs his rest to focus for the job tomorrow, and frankly, so does Mikey. After covering him up, Mikey trudges to his bed, feeling the euphoria wear off, and is asleep before his head hits the pillow.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u for putting up w my shitty upload schedule 

“Gerard! Get up!” Mikey groans as his brother clings to the couch for dear life.

“ _ No _ !” he whines. “I don’t want to go!”

He manages to tug his brother fully off the couch, with a sickening thump as his face hits the floor. “You agreed to it yesterday! We need the money!”

“But my comic-!”

“Will be there later!” he says. Mikey sighs, drops Gerard’s legs, and stares at his brother splayed out on the living room floor. “Today is the only day you have to work this early. Every other day you’ll have time in the morning to work on it.”

Gerard rolls over and stares up at his looming brother. “But I work at night!”

“Not anymore,” Mikey remarks from the kitchen, beginning to fry up some egg they would normally mix in with their ramen.

If there’s one thing Gerard can’t deny, it’s his stomach. With a hearty moan, he picks himself up off of the slightly itchy carpet. Why was he even on the couch? His bed is more comfortable, albeit not by much, and doesn’t leave the feeling of someone stabbing a knife into his lower back. Then, last night hits him.

“Did you get my blush palette?” he asks suggestively.

Mikey stiffens in the kitchen and there’s a strong smell of burning eggs before he regains composure. “Yeah, I put it in your bag.”

“You get anything else?”

“His number,” Mike starts, cracking another egg. Gerard is practically beaming. “And the information that he has a girlfriend,” he finishes, dripping with fake enthusiasm.

Gerard walks over to the kitchen with a grimace and leans against Mikey’s side. “Sorry, dude. I mean, at least you can still talk to him on the phone or whenever you go to the store.”

“And at the haunted houses,” he mumbles, busying himself with dishing the cooked egg onto two chipped plates.

With those words, Mikey is greeted with a violent slap on his arm. “Mikey! That’s awesome! You both could hang out and- and, like, maybe he could eventually like you.”

“With the girl,” he adds bitterly, stuffing his face with his egg and handing the other plate to Gerard.

Gerard eats half of it in silence before saying, “Sorry, Mikes. I’m sure you can find someone else. You have a bunch of time off work now.”

Mikey just shrugs, eating his eggs. When he’s finished, he dumps his plate in the sink and sighs. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Once the two are stuffed into the baking community center after signing in with an assortment of other broke people, they find themselves scanning the scene. It’s a large jumble of people from all kinds of race, fashion, and appearance. Mikey and Gerard keep to themselves, while everyone else jabbers on about god knows what.

Mikey squeezes Gerard’s arm as he feels him tense beside him, waiting until he relaxes before letting go. Right when he does, Mikey spots a bit of fluffy hair he can, ashamedly, recognize anywhere.

“Ray!” Mikey calls over the buzz, waving a long arm in the air.

Ray turns and spots Mikey, well, his arm. He wiggles through the crowd to get over to Mikey.

Gerard peers out from behind Mikey and hovers protectively. What Mikey thinks of Ray could be heavily twisted from what he’s actually like, and Gerard doesn’t want anything bad to happen to him. He surveys him up and down. Wild wavy hair. Huge smile. Kind eyes. The perfect look to make him a perfect master manipulator.

“This must be Gerard,” Ray beams, knocking Gerard out of his own head.

Gerard looks up at him, still peering around Mikey. He holds out a hand as he mumbles, “And you’re Ray.”

Not noticing his standoffish behavior, Ray clasps his hand firmly and shakes it. “Your art is super good, dude.”

Gerard cracks a tiny smile, not knowing how Ray knew about his art but flattered nonetheless.

“So, uh,” Mikey starts awkwardly. “Where’s Christa?”

“Ah, she’s not gonna work the whole month, just a few places.”

Gerard and Mikey share a millisecond glance. “Christa?” Gerard asks casually, as though he doesn’t know who that is.

“Yeah, my old friend,” Ray clarifies with a grin.

“Oh, I’ll be happy to meet her.”

Ray smiles at Gerard and turns to look at a woman calling for their attention at the front of the center on stage. As he does, Gerard elbows Mikey harshly in the gut.

“Mikey!” he hisses.

Mikey elbows him back. “Shut up! I heard!”

The woman at the front has a kind appearance about her. She’s got a soft curvy body with short manicured nails as well as a long black braid down her back. Her skin is a deep caramel, showing off her bright green eyes. All that is left to her soft appearance is a kind face, which she doesn’t don’t have. Those bright green eyes are framed with deep purple circles and her bright red lips are being gnawed on by her teeth.

“Okay, attention, everyone!” she calls to the room, letting a hush fall. “I’m Aisha. Welcome to the 25th annual haunted house plan!” Her face twists into a painful smile, trying to hide whatever is stressing her. “If you’re new… uh, we basically sort into categories based on your position. You’ll organize when you’re free to come in. The more of you available for each house, the better. Each house has a minimum amount of you required, so you sort who can come in.

“It’s the 25th anniversary, so there's an extra haunted house we’ve organized exactly on Halloween night! We need volunteers for that day too, so, uh, just organize it amongst yourselves.”

“Why would we want to work on Halloween?!” a faint voice calls from the back. The room buzzes in rising agreement.

Aisha huffs and yells over the noise, “The more houses you work at the more you get paid!” The disgruntled mumbles are replaced with scattered clapping. She just rolls her eyes. “Alright, if you’re here for management and staffing, head over to the left side of the room. If you’re here for makeup artistry, head on over to the right. All of my actors, come up to where I am.”

Once Gerard realizes what this means, he looks over to Mikey, who gives him a sad smile. He and Ray slip over to the opposite side of the room, leaving Gerard to walk to the other.

Everyone in the makeup artist group is caked in a stylish glam that helps Gerard feel more out of place. Some of them are even covered in convincing prosthetics already, though Gerard didn’t hear anything about having to come in full mutant fish. The rest is covered in outrageous drag-style looks, which is clearly unnecessary.

“Okay, my little artists!” a boney woman chirps. “I’m Vivian. If you don’t mind, follow me to the tents out front.”

Gerard didn’t remember any tents, but sure enough, once they step outside, they’re shaded by tents that seem to stretch on forever. He follows Vivian to rows of classy movie star vanities, as well as a crowd following Aisha similarly to them, though much more in fear.

“And if any of you step out of line, I have a very close friend at the county jail who won’t hesitate to lock you up for ruining this.” The crowd of men and women alike nod frantically, a few trickling away, not ready for what they were going to sign up for. “Okay, from the signup sheets, about two of you are going to be assigned to an artist. You’re free to switch around if you’ve got a friend or something, but the maximum is two and the least is one. Got it?” More nodding. “Vivian,” she states, jerking her head towards the woman leading the makeup artists. The crowd lines up at the vanities in pairs in robotic unison.

Vivian just grins sweetly at them all and shuffles to Aisha’s side, letting her rest her head on her shoulder. “Okay, artists, find a station!”

It’s incredibly unorganized, but it somehow works. Mixing the fear from Aisha and the softness of Vivian is a near-perfect blend to keep everyone in line, that and the money, of course.

Gerard ends up near the side of the community center, which is one of the shadiest parts. Standing there were two men. They aren’t short since Gerard isn’t that tall himself, but they are shorter than him by a good couple of inches.

The first he sees is practically a carbon copy of any faceless scene kid, he even fits the height. His black hair is swept over one half of his face and is dyed an unnatural black. Like his hair, his clothes are all black, besides the grey stripes of his hoodie. The second guy is also a copy. He’s got practically the same dark hair and eyes, as well as the clothes. Both wear thick rims of eyeliner and are chatting like they’ve known each other for years, but with their stances around each other, they probably haven’t.

Gerard steps closer to them, setting his bag down onto the unclean table. “Um, hi.”

They both stop talking and give him warm smiles, to which Gerard can’t help but smile back.

“I’m Pete,” the first introduces.

The second gives a tiny wave. “And I’m Frank.”

Gerard nods and stares at them, analyzing their bone structure from afar. Pete has a lot of space for a type of gore around his mouth and nasal area. Frank has the eye size for something extra sickening.

Then Gerard realizes they’re staring back at him expectantly. Quickly, his mind goes through the brief conversation and realizes he hasn’t said his own name. “Oh, I’m Gerard,” he laughs nervously.

The two nod, like he’s passed a sort of test. For all Gerard knew about the briefing Aisha had given them, he just might have.

Pete plops down into the chair. “Make me pretty,” he sings, making duck lips at himself in the mirror, which Frank joins in on. It’s all so loose and silly that Gerard also finds himself making goofy faces in the mirror alongside them.

“Well, I think this is just a practice run, so you can do whatever you want,” Frank says after pulling his tongue back inside his mouth after extending it as far as he could. Pete snorts at the innuendo, earning a short smack from Frank.

Gerard just huffs a laugh and clasps Pete’s jaw turning it towards him, eager to observe his facial structure more carefully. The flatness of his nose could be morphed into an open shaved-off wound if he tries. There’s a bit more space than he expected between his upper lip and the tip of his nose, which would be good if he were to have anything crawling out of his mouth or nose. His heavy lids would be good if he wanted to do anything with his forehead, seeing as he could get some more space.

“Well, god, Gerard, if you were that interested, you could’ve just asked,” Pete says with a wink.

Gerard gives him a light pat on the cheek and opens the makeup kit lying forgotten on the table, as well as picking out a few props. Giving Frank a quick glance, he sees he’s just waiting for his turn while on his phone. Happy to not have to entertain while he works, Gerard sets everything into motion.

He glues the props on, slightly above where he wants them to be, anticipating the droop they would face after the glue dries. Carefully leaving a rim of uncovered space around each prop, Gerard covers his face in a purple tint. He pops open a fresh dropper of fake blood and carefully applies it around his mouth and nose, layering it to appear chunky after it dries. He lets the purple makeup creep slightly onto the props once they’ve dried, making it look it was ripping out of his skin. Right when he thinks he’s done, he hears Aisha.

“Try to start on your second person if you’ve got one. We need time for the evaluation!” Aisha calls from Vivian’s side. Vivian gives her a worried look and mumbles something into her ear, earning a disapproving glance. “Artists! I’ve been informed you weren’t aware, but this is a try-out! We  _ will  _ be sending some of you home!”

Suddenly, it’s like Gerard had a brand new pair of goggles to see his work. The horns bulging from Pete’s temple were slightly uneven. The purple makeup coating his face was splotchy and unblended.

“Dude, that looks sick!” a voice says, interrupting his thoughts.

Frank.

Pete groans. “I wanna see! Gerard can I see now?” he begs. Gerard nods, slightly embarrassed. Pete kicks the ground and swivels around in the chair, looking at himself in awe in the mirror. “Holy shit, I’m a  _ hot  _ demon.”

Frank pushes Pete out of the seat. “I wanna be hot too! Move!”

They bicker like children and Gerard feels a sense of pride welling up in him. He did good.

Eventually, Frank wins with the argument that Gerard couldn’t do this again if he wasn’t selected. He looks up at Gerard with a cheeky grin, jutting his face out for Gerard to take it. He does.

Frank’s face is different from Pete’s despite them both being so similar in style and general persona. His eyes are much wider, which he can easily manipulate to have a sunken, haunting appearance. He notices a tattoo on Frank’s neck, making him realize just how much space he could use there. It’s the lip ring that really catches his attention; he could slip an especially small prop in there easily.

Instead of purple, he grabs a green tint after gluing a few props onto his neck and forehead, even a few onto his cheeks. They all had the same concept, so it wouldn’t be that much of a hassle to decorate them. After applying the green in the same choppy fashion as Pete so it would at least look intentional, he adds some blood, but not nearly as much as Pete. Since the props weren’t dried yet, he works on his eyes. He has particularly large eyes, nearly doe-like. If Gerard could request some colored contacts, it would be amazing, not that the hazel there already wasn’t great.

Then, the props are dry. After circling them in an irritated red and green chunks, he steps back to look at him. Even Pete, who is ogling himself in the mirror, gives an appreciative whistle at Frank.

“Not as sexy as me, but you definitely got the creepy part down, but I think that’s just Frank.”

Frank flips him off and carefully looks at Gerard, not moving his expression much. “Can I see?”

Gerard nods and watches his face through the mirror as he sees himself for the first time.

His reaction is immediate. Like a child on Christmas, his eyes light up and his mouth stretches into a grin as far as he dares with all the props. On his face are eyes bubbling out of his skin that look practically identical to his own. A few were split with blood dripping out of them. Gerard didn’t want to use too many, so he took his practice on Mikey the other day and constructed some using only eyeshadow and highlight, though they weren’t nearly as good as the props.

“We both look sick!” Frank cheers. Pete pretends to think it over, but breaks out into a grin and goes back to making faces in the mirror with Frank.

In the focus of doing Frank's makeup, Gerard must have missed Aisha announcing she was checking makeup since she was strolling down the row of vanities in the direction of Gerard. She gives praise as well as critique. No matter if she keeps you or asks you to leave, you receive both. If a person doesn’t take it well, she asks them to leave, even if she originally asked them to stay.

It takes only a few minutes, but it’s agony to Gerard. Even Pete and Frank are worried. The actors are in the same boat as the artists.

“You’re Gerard, right?” Aisha asks, staring at the bottom of the printed list in her hand. When did they have time to print it out?

“Yeah,” he breathes.

She ignores his nerves and stares at Frank and Pete. “You two are Frank and Pete?” They nod. “Great. I’ve always got some clowns trying to fake something on their application. So, this is it?” she asks, motioning to their faces.

Frank and Pete break into the cheesy zombie and demon stereotypes, which Gerard enjoys seeing with his effects immensely. Aisha seems to think the same since her face finally breaks into a much-needed smile of relaxation.

“Looks great guys,” she chuckles.

She gives them minor pointers and a few tips for Gerard, including brands he could use once he gets his first check.

After she leaves, Gerard can’t help but wonder what Mikey is doing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bita mikey n ray for the soul (small chapter u_u)

Two people run the management group, a man and woman who are polar opposites. The man is tall and sickly pale, dressing in eye-catching neon colors with bright orange hair. The woman is short and has skin the color of dark chocolate, with her hair styled in thick cornrows, as well as dressing in stylish, monochrome-victorian attire. Yet, their attitudes are just as versatile. The woman is energetic and king while the man is stone cold and quiet. It’s odd, to say the least.

“I’m Vick,” the man says. “This is Elle.”

Elle waves eagerly. “This is management! We took all the volunteers we could get, but we can’t afford to pay about… half of you, so some of you are going to be sent home,” she laughs, ignoring the protests.

“I thought this was volunteer-based!”

She clicks her tongue at the man who at least has a foot over her in height that shouted. He has a burly figure with a wild blonde beard, compensating for the baldness of his head. “Right, you still can volunteer, but volunteers aren’t paid. So, technically, this is a part-time job interview,” she retorts, not even flinching at his glare.

Mikey glances over at Ray, who seems nervous. While Mikey isn’t nervous, he isn’t keen on letting this opportunity for extra income slip between his fingers. Carefully, he gives Ray a nudge with his foot, causing him to look at him. He gives him an overexaggerated smile, motioning for him to do the same. He does, but more genuine.

“Part of management is physical labor,” Vick says, stepping protectively closer to Elle. “You’ll be asked to help the volunteers set up as well as control them. If you’re here to laze around and think you can get away with bossing everyone around, feel free to leave now. If you stay and do that, just remember I’m a higher authority,” he threatens, eyeing a few sleazy guys muttering together.

A large chunk of the crowd dissipates, leaving around ¾ of them, including the bearded man. Elle counts to herself, muttering the numbers. “Okay, about ten of you guys still have to go.”

“What are work hours?” a tired woman asks, eyes flicking to the phone in her hand periodically.

“Great question! Out of everyone, you have the most work hours. Makeup artists have the least with actors second. You’ll have more workdays since you have to help set up the haunted houses and have to take homework as well on occasion.” The woman nods and walks out, though mournfully. “Anyone else?”

There’s a general murmur and no one decides they want to walk out.

“Okay,” Vick starts, with a glint in his eye. “Who’s ready for their first house?”

“I  _ hate  _ this,” Mikey gasps, dropping a large box at his feet, slumping over it in exhaustion.

Ray chuckles from behind him, walking around him and setting the box a few more feet in front of him, where it’s actually supposed to go. “We can do the next one together,” he offers, extending an arm for Mikey to take. He does.

“God, how can you do this? This is torture!” he adds, voice lowered as they walk past the monitors.

“Store needs supplies unloaded all the time,” Ray shrugs. “Also, I try to stay in shape on my own time. And not only eat ramen,” he smirks, poking at Mikey, causing him to giggle.

“That’s why I need this job,” Mikey sighs. “So I can taste the sweet taste of chicken not in powder form.”

“Ah, but then I’d lose my favorite customer,” Ray replies dramatically.

It’s playful, but Mikey feels the heat creep up his neck. “Money runs out.”

Ray smiles and bends down to grab one end of an extra large box. It hits Mikey what they’re both supposed to be doing and he scuttles over to the other end, watching Ray. Ray mouths a count-down from three before hoisting his end of the box up, staring at Mikey as he struggles to do the same. The flex in Ray’s arms become prevalent as he tilts Mikey’s end of the box upward to help, causing another wave of heat to climb his neck. He forces his eyes to stare down at his end of the box, keeping it up.

“I’m going to walk backwards,” Ray tells him. “I need you to guide me.”

This is practically going to be the biggest disaster in history. A bigger disaster than the  _ Friends  _ episode where they get stuck in the stairway with a couch after trying to move it.

Mikey nods. “Okay, let's start,” he says hesitantly, trying to be soothed by Ray’s encouraging nod. “Keep going… okay, turn!” he yells, fearing Ray might topple backwards over a box behind him. BUt Ray stops moving and gives him a confused head-tilt.

“Which way?”

That’s just blatantly stupid on Mikey’s part. “Oh, um, right.”

It goes similar to this the whole journey; Mikey giving directions and needing to clarify with his haste. It’s clear Ray is struggling near the end, seeing as he has the brunt of the work, but he doesn’t once complain. Not when he’s backed against a wall and hits his head or when Mikey trips and pushes the box into his chest. He just keeps going, only asking for clarification in directions occasionally.

“Um, we’re here. You can set your end of the box down first,” he assures.

“Mikey, it-”

“Ray,” Mikey interrupts. “Set your side down.”

Ray stares at him, but eventually gives into the quiver of his arms and quickly sets his side down. Once it hits the floor, Mikey is suddenly overcome with the realization of how much the thing really weighs, and he’s not even holding all of it. His arms shake much more violently that Ray’s as he tries to lower it slowly. It’s like his lungs have never experienced any physical labor with how much they’re struggling.

Then the box is light and one of his arms is warm. He looks over and sees Ray’s arms pressed against his as he takes on some of the weight.

“Ray, I’ve got it.”

He chuckles. “I don’t need you blowing your back out. Just so you know, your form is terrible.”

Mikey smiles lightly and squints at him. “Well, I’m not some gym rat like  _ someone  _ I know.”

They set the box down together and stand up to stretch, with Ray’s instruction. “I am nowhere near the level of those guys. My arms look like noodles compared to theirs,” he laughs, extending his arm, unaware of the effect it has on Mikey.

Mikey breathily giggles and tries to distract himself. “Yeah? Then what do my arms look like?” he teases, flexing his nonexistent muscles.

They’re both lost in a fit of giggles before they hear Vick calling for them all to gather.

“Alright, great job, guys,’ he praises, not even looking remotely pleased with any of them. “Most of you have managed to prove your worth here. I’m going to ask for some of you to leave, you will be paid for today, however.”

He strolls through the group tipping a few people on the shoulder before he gets to Mikey, giving him a tap. It hurt, but Mikey understood. He could barely set down a single box.

“Everyone that Vick tapped has to go,” Elle says sympathetically, eyeing a few people she knew were obviously going home.

Mikey sighs and gives Ray a small smile, which is quickly returned, before turning to leave. He promptly bumps into someone that he couldn’t see.

“Watch it,” the man growls, shoving Mikey backward.

Mikey quickly adjusts his glasses, feeling a bit too much like he’s in high school again, and looks at him. He recognizes him as the tough guy from the beginning, who threatened Elle. “Sorry,” he mutters, losing all sense of apology after he was so rude.

“You better be,” he scoffs. His eyes narrow. “Why are you still here? You definitely didn’t make the cut for this crap.”

Mikey knows better than to poke. He wasn’t exactly popular in high school, still, it bugs him that he’s saying this in front of Ray. Ray who is looking at the situation with concern in his eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he tests. “Like you’re better?” That last comment is a bit out of line considering his stature, but Mikey realizes that too late.

The guy has his fist balled up in Mikey’s shirt easily and quickly. “What’d you say to me?”

Mikey feels Ray hover closely behind him, ready to grab him if need be. He’s never seen Mikey in a fight, but he assumes that with his daring attitude he knows what he’s doing. Boy, how wrong he is.

“Robert!” a voice interjects, causing him to drop Mikey back into Ray. “What the hell are you doing?!”

“This punk was starting shit!” he glowers at Elle.

She steps in between them, causing Mikey to have to squish closer to Ray. “Look to me that you’re the one making it physical, which we don’t condone. I’m going to have to ask you to leave and consider your position terminated,” she recites, but with a much more menacing tone lacing the words.

Robert moves to object but is cut off by Vick cracking his knuckles. He scoffs and turns around, leaving the room.

Vick narrows his eyes at Mikey. “You’re taking his place, but you’re on some thin fucking ice.”

He and Elle leave, dismissing everyone from the work, reminding them to come in again tomorrow.

Ray releases Mikey with a sigh, his brows furrowed. “Dude, what was that?!”

The tone struck Mikey, leaving him a stuttering mess, not at all liking that he upset Ray. “Well, I- I just-”

“That was so uncalled for! Sure, he was a dick, but really?! You could’ve gotten seriously hurt!”

Something in Mikey’s chest tightened as he struggled to find words. “Ray, I was- I can take care of myself. I wasn’t going to let him, like, walk all over me.”

Ray crosses his arms across his chest. “Yeah, well, that wasn’t the way to do it.” He looks at Mikey closer, really noticing his upset half-frown, and rubs his hands over his eyes. “Just, be careful, okay?” Mikey nods. “Okay… let’s go see if Gerard is done.”

Mikey nods again and stays as close to Ray as he thinks he can get away with as they walk back to the ‘Community Center. They make small conversation by debating where they might’ve gone or if they’re still in the Center. Other than that, they stay quiet and walk side by side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look at me writing <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the beginnings of the petekey storyline if you don't blink

“No, no, but he actually pissed himself!” Pete exclaims, relaying a story to a bent-over-in-laughter Gerard and Frank.

“I didn’t even know that could happen with weed!” Gerard gasps, clutching Frank’s shoulder.

“Gerard!” Frank chokes through laughs. “You don’t know  _ anything  _ that happens with weed!”

And they’re all grabbing at each other as they try to keep upright. It’s like this the whole time: one of them retelling some sort of wild adventure and the other two losing it until the third eventually gave in and laughed with them. The mix of pain in their chests and accidental bruises caused by elbows and the occasional knee would ache later, but the euphoria masks it all. Gerard hasn’t had this much fun in a long time.

“Pete?” a voice asks, causing all three pairs of eyes to lock onto him. “Er, the management finished up. I got in.”

Pete straightens up with a bright smile, face still flushed. Eagerly, he jumps onto Patrick, planting a wet kiss on his cheek and holding him like a lifeboat. “Pat! That’s great!” He looks over to Frank and Gerard, who are catching their breath and straightening up. “Oh! I met these two!” He pauses, thinking to himself. “I totally forgot their names, but this is Patrick!” he exclaims brightly.

Frank almost keels forward in laughter again but stops himself with Gerard’s shoulder. “I’m- I’m Frank.”

Gerard’s hair is a tousled mess, giving up on preserving it, he pushes it back so he gets a clear view of Patrick. He’s around Pete’s height but doesn’t attempt to make up for it in stamina, he looks normal. He’s got thick-rimmed glasses that remind Gerard of Mikey’s, even their poorly done bangs are similar. The dorkiest thing about him is the fedora resting on his head naturally without any form of irony.

This time Gerard picks up that he should be introducing himself. “Right, I’m Gerard.”

Patrick nods at them, not really feeling the need to say more. “We should go, Pete.”

“Aw, but they’re so cool,” he wines like Patrick is his mother. “I wanna stay.”

Patrick’s eyelids droop, tired of what he knows will become a long argument if he fuels it. “Fine, but we need to go soon.”

Eagerly, Pete flashes Gerard and Frank a thumbs-up like he just got permission from a guardian to stay over at their house. It sends them into more shared giggles.

Gerard learns in a very short amount of time that Patrick is just as cool as Pete after he unwinds. He can apparently, according to legend (legend being Pete’s thorough recounting of their history), get pretty wild at parties. They obviously have some strong history, which makes Gerard itch for another chance to actually enjoy college and make more memories instead of shying away.

“Pete!” Patrick shrieks. “How could you tell them the piss story?!”

Pete buries his recently flushed face into his shoulder. “Which one?!” Patrick just shoves him, but not enough for him to detach his face from his arm.

Frank gawks at him. “Were you the guy?!”

At the commotion, they receive plenty of dirty works from the janitors cleaning up the clearing Community Center, wanting nothing more for the obnoxious guys to leave. For the most part, they ignore the group, occasionally vacuuming near their feet, but avoiding them like the plague otherwise.

“God, no! No, but here’s the best part: his girlfriend found him and freaked out because she laced the weed and it was meant for some bitch that tried to sleep with him, but he took it for the party! At least three other people pissed themselves too!”

“No!” Gerard cries as he topples backward onto Frank, who is losing it just as much. They lay in a giggling lump on the floor for god-knows how long until someone else interrupts.

“Uh, Gerard? We finished up.” Mikey.

Patrick looks over to Mikey, regaining his composure much easier than the other three. “Weren’t you the guy that got into a fight in management?”

That snaps Gerard out of the daze he’s in. “Fight? Mikey, what happened?”

Mikey rolls his eyes with a huff, angling himself away from Ray. “Nothing, some guy was being a douche and he tried to start something.”

Ray raises his eyebrows, looking like he wants to add a detail Mikey left out. But Mikey doesn’t correct himself, so Ray stays silent on the matter. He instead looks around at the strangers that multiplied around him. First, it was Gerard. That’s fine. He’s Mikey's brother, he can deal with that. But now there are three more people that he hardly knows.

“Hey, uh, I’ve gotta work later, so I’m gonna head back,” he says to Mikey more than anyone else.

Mikey looks between him and Gerard before realizing it wasn’t an invitation for him to come. “Oh, um, okay. I’ll see you for management. Yeah?”

Ray nods curtly and heads off away from them, staying well out of the way of the janitors. He remembers what it’s like.

Mikey stares after him with concern in his eyes, seeping onto his other facial features.

“Mikey,” Gerard says, seeing his remorse. “This is Patrick, Pete, and Frank. They’re cool… kinda.”

This launches into a playful argument of who is really the least cool, which turns into a debate about who is the coolest. Mikey joins in when it seems that Gerard is going to win, telling the non-thrilling tales of his hermit life. It becomes an embarrassing story contest. Pete chimes in with a couple of embarrassing stories about Frank when he sees he feels left out. The conversation flows and shifts and changes until they’re at a pizza joint across the street howling in laughter at the bar.

“God, what time is it even?” a slightly tipsy Pete asks.

Frank lets his forehead hit the bar harshly after checking his phone. “It’s not even ten!”

“I could stay here forever with you guys,” Gerard sighs, pressing himself into Patrick.

“You know what’s bullshit?!” Mikey yells far too loudly, but the bar is growing more crowded, so it’s not brought to anyone’s attention besides there's. Frank yells in response, edging him on. “There’s this cute guy, like so cute, so incredibly cute, like none of you have anything on him. And he’s dating this girl!”

“No!” they all gasp, including Gerard, who forgets he knows who it is.

“I know! And he was like all fucking nice to me today while I’m trying to not feel this shit!”

Gerard, who isn’t thinking clearly with the alcohol in his system, he shouts, “That asshole!”

Pete squints at Mikey. “Why wouldn’t he date you?! You’re, like, super cute! What’s his problem?!”

Mikey lets himself fall on Pete, like all the bones in his body turned into mush. “You’re like the only person who thinks that. And you’re cute too!”

Pete and Mikey babble on tearfully about how cute one another is while Patrick stands up from the bar. He seems to be the one person who refrained from drinking more than a bottle.

“Okay, I need to get out of here before I give up and start drinking,” he admits. “Pete! Come on!”

Gerard swats Patrick. “It’s cool, man,” he slurs. “I can take them all back to our place.”

Patrick shakes his head. “As nice as that is and as much as I believe you’re in no shape to murder us, Pete has to work in the morning. He’s gotta sleep and he hates the pizza here, so he needs to eat.”

“They serve it with giant leaves all over it! Why would they do that?!” Pete defends.

Patrick rolls his eyes and grabs his arm, pulling him away from Mikey and out the door. Frank says something about getting a cab, but Gerard assures him that he’ll drive him home. Mikey is the drunkest out of all of them, while Frank is the soberest, so Frank takes the liberty of dragging Mikey to the back and sitting in the passenger seat next to Gerard, who’s driving.

Frank directs Gerard to his apartment, while anxiously watching him, who is slightly too drunk to be driving. On occasion, Frank has to make sure he’s paying attention to the road and not about to blackout. The trip goes smoothly and Frank ends up at his apartment in no time. After thanking Gerard for the lift and saving some of his bus fare, he heads inside.

Gerard hardly remembers the trip home. He remembers he definitely was at the wheel, didn’t crash, and probably didn’t hit anyone. But after helping a passed out Mikey up the flight of stairs leading to their apartment and shuffling inside, he passes out before he even leaves the couch.

Mikey groans when he wakes up. His back and neck ache in an unbearable throb like he was stabbed ten times and left to heal on his own. The headache pulsing at his temple isn’t helping either. When he sits up, daggers shoot through his body, but he looks around, ignoring it.

The first thing he sees is their crappy TV sitting on the stand gleaming back at him, covered in fingerprints and smudges. The flaking wall paint gives the screen a sad backdrop and whatever else is in the barren room like the coffee table, the stand, and the couch. The couch.

Mikey turns to the couch to see Gerard passed out ungracefully with his face smushed into the blanket Mikey used the other day. It always seems like one of them ends up sleeping there.

The sun peeks through their ragged old curtains in a small ray extending across the room, which leads Mikey to believe it’s somewhere around noon. He knows he’s off work today, but he also remembers that he has something else to do. What was it?

“Gerard,” Mikey whispers, not letting himself raise his voice higher than that. Gerard doesn’t move. “Gerard,” he tries again, facing the same result. With all his scrawny arms would let him, he shakes his older brother like there’s no tomorrow.

Gerard groans, clutching his head and pressing his eyes closed at the sight of the sun. “God, what time is it?”

“Like, noon. Hey, was I supposed to do something today?”

He turns to Mikey with his eyes still closed. “Dude, you have to work at the house.”

Mikey squints at him in confusion, searching through his mind, pushing past the throbbing. Then yesterday hits him. “Oh, shit.”

Both he and Gerard get up, slightly dizzy, and move to wear something clean. They haven't showered in days and sure as hell don’t have time now. Mikey debates whether he has time to eat, but is pushed out of the door by Gerard, who promises he’ll get something for him after he drives over there. They launch into their respective seats, Gerard as the driver and Mikey as the passenger, so he could drop him off easily. As soon as Mikey hits the chair, Gerard’s foot is on the gas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah. sorry but short chapters is what you're getting.

**Author's Note:**

> okayy we covered a lot of ground. see ya next chapter


End file.
